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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29841486">Look out in the Blackout</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/0zzysaurus/pseuds/0zzysaurus'>0zzysaurus</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Kilworth Production, Kilworth!AU, Multi, World War II</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:22:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,841</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29841486</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/0zzysaurus/pseuds/0zzysaurus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of chapters exploring the lives of Jellicle Britons - trying their best to survive the Blitz. <br/>Inspired by the Kilworth Non-Replica Production.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Demeter/Munkustrap (Cats), Mr. Mistoffelees/Rum Tum Tugger (Cats), Mungojerrie/Rumpleteazer (Cats)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Look out in the Blackout</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div>
    <p></p>
    <div class="">
      <p></p>
      <div class="">
        <p>It wasn’t easy doing this every night. Munkustrap didn’t have the military training that could have prepared him for the things he was going to see. He’d been a firefighter. He’d seen what flames could do to a person. He’d never seen what a <em>bomb </em>could do to a person.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p> </p>
        <p>The high-low droning of the siren was eerie and urgent. He hated hearing it. Every single time it blared off like this, it sent a horrible shiver down his spine. But this was his job now, and he <em>wanted </em>to do it right. Protecting people had always been Munk’s passion, and now his constitution was being put to the test.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>He tightened the strap under his chin - tapped the top of his helmet (possibly to test if it was sturdy. Though, if a bomb were to drop on his head he doubted the helmet would do much to save him,) and hurried down the cobbled street. His whistle shrieked brightly. The houses alongside him all performed their civil ARP duties as he passed - lights flickered off and curtains were pulled shut until the whole street was blacked out entirely.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>He could hear Anderson shelter doors creeking open and shut all across town as civilians quickly abandoned their homes and entered into their backyard bunkers. Young children cried out as their mother’s hurried them to safety. Munk swallowed nervously. He hoped that his own wife and daughter had safely tucked themselves away underground. He could picture Jemima dressed in her little, white pyjama dress - rubbing her eyes and babbling with fright as Demeter hauled her up into her arms. They’d sit down there for the rest of the night until the planes were gone. Praying for it to be over. Praying that they weren’t hit directly. Praying that Munkustrap would be okay.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>He stood still and listened carefully over the sound of the siren. Aside from it’s wailing drone, it seemed that all was going to plan here.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p> </p>
        <p>The first bombs always scared him. They would shake the ground on impact with a deep, booming explosion. It made his heart race like mad. But once they dropped more frequently, he’d toughen up again. The searchlights illuminated the undercarriages of the Pollicle planes, and he made sure to turn off his torch every time one passed overhead. The ringing bells of the auxillery fire service were already chiming. Fires were beginning to brew. There would be families emerging after tonight to find their homes torn to rubble.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>Turning down the next street, Munkustrap was agast to see two local spivs using this opportunity as a chance to thieve from the jewellery store. One of them had smashed the shop front’s window and was half-way in when Munkustrap called to them.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>“You two! Get out of here!” He shouted, and blared his whistle again.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>“Ah! C'mon, Jerrie-”</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>“Teazer! There’s an air warden! Shite, let’s go!”</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>The two calico criminals scampered off as another bomb rumbled down onto the town.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p> </p>
        <p>The Pollicles were mostly aiming for the ammunitions factories off to the south, but civilians were targets, too. His sector hadn’t been hit. <em>Yet. </em>But it would be soon. They came in waves across the sky, and soon the bombs would fall here, too.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>And it wasn’t long before they did. An impossibly loud explosion rattled his eardrums as a bomb dropped on the street directly parallel to him. He could see the building collapsing from where he was stood, and was impressed with the efficiency of his squadron when the squealing messenger whistle followed quickly after.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>Appearing at the end of the street was his brother, Tugger - with his Messenger Mk. II helmet sitting lopsided on his head. He called down to him with his little megaphone.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>“Those bastard Jerries!” He cried. “They’ve gutted the chippy! It’s burning!”</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>
          <em>Of course, that would be his first concern.</em>
        </p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>“Don’t just stand there then you pillock, make the call for the fire service!”</p>
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div>
    <p></p>
    <div class="">
      <p></p>
      <div class="">
        <p> </p>
        <p>The two of them quickly hurried to the phone box. Another bomb dropping nearby shook the foundations of the road so badly that Tugger fell to his knees. Munk was steadfast in his stance, and helped Tugger up again before dialing the number.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>But he never got the chance to finish the call before a bomb dropped down onto the post office directly beside them. The blast was brutally harsh and knocked them both down immediately. Before Munk could even call out to Tugger to make sure he was okay, a rain of heavy bricks and shrapnel was launched their way. Munkustrap turned onto his side and bore the brunt of the rubble on his shoulder, protecting his face and neck with his hands.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>He coughed as the cement and brick dust filled his lungs. He scrambled for his torch which he'd dropped in the explosion. He couldn't see shit. His hand patted around dangerously on the ground, touching sharp metal and brick, and eventually - an arm. <em>Tugger.</em></p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>Munk shook Tugger's shoulders and sat his brother up, but he was unresponsive.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>"Tugger? Can you hear me. God- Ugh!" Munkustrap pressed his paws to his ears. He could barely hear himself through the ringing in his eardrums and the whining of the siren.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>If Tugger had been knocked out, then he needed to be brought right the hell back around, <em>now. </em>Munk dug into the first-aid kit in his satchel and pulled out a rag, and bottle of smelling salts. He rushed to pour some out onto the rag, and waved the ammonia under Tugger's nose. His brother quickly sputtered and coughed himself awake.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>"God- Get that stuff away from me!" He gagged.</p>
        <p>Munk let out a sigh of relief, but was quickly reminded of their situation when another explosion rang out.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p> </p>
        <p>"Come on you twit!" Munk grabbed his brother's arm and heaved him up off the ground, only to hear his brother yelp in pain.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>"My leg!" He seethed.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>Looking down, Munk noticed a shard of glass was wedged into Tugger's calf - right through his overalls. Munk rolled his eyes and looped his arm under Tugger, acting as his crutch. Tugger used his torch to help Munk find his, and they both hobbled to the end of the street. By the time they got there another bomb had dropped dangerously close to them. It hit the ground right where they'd been knocked over - it was a good thing they'd got up and moved when they did.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>"C'mon, there's no civilians here. We need to get to the train station!" Tugger assured. Munk knew that wasn't true. There were at least <em>two </em>stripy idiots running around out here trying to make gains while everyone else rode out the Blitz. He needed to herd them back to the rest centre before they were blown to pieces. </p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>"Can you walk at all?" Munk asked.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>"Barely, but I can try." Tugger put his foot down and groaned, but he could do it.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>"Get to the station, I have some cats I need to find. <em>Don't </em>get killed if you can help it."</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>Tugger nodded and tipped his helmet. "No promises."</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>He limped away at speed and Munk sighed a breath of anxiety. His lungs still burned from the asbestos he'd just inhaled. Even so, he blew down on his whistle and began his search.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p> </p>
        <p>"Mungojerrie, Rumpleteazer!" He called out.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>Of course, he knew these rapscallions by name. This wasn't the first time they'd pulled a trick like this, and it probably wouldn't be the last. Everytime it happened he felt more and more resentful towards them. They weren't just risking their own lives, they were putting <em>everyone's</em> lives in danger - especially when they used torches of their own and didn't regulate how often they used them.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>He blew his whistle again and was returned with the whistling of a falling bomb. He ducked into an alleyway and pressed himself against the wall as the bomb landed on the cobblestones, shooting them out in all directions. <em>Another close call.</em></p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p> </p>
        <p>Suddenly, a cry from the street caught his attention.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>"Warden!" Came the strangled shout of a tom. "H-help!"</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>It was Mungojerrie, and his body had been trapped under a large chunk of brickwall. Rumpleteazer stood close by only slightly scathed, but the fear and terror in her eyes at the sight of her lover being crushed was horrendous.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>When Munkustrap got closer, he realised Jerrie hadn't just been pinned down by rubble, he'd been caught in the blast itself. His entire left side was seared. His face was red and black with soot and blood. There was a distinct lack of fingers on one side and... well... an arm on the other. Munkustrap had never seen anything like this before. It was worse than the scortched bones of fire victims. At least then he couldn't recognise the contorting pain in their faces, or behold the brightness in their still living eyes.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>Jerrie tried to reach up, his mangled hand aimed desperately at Munkustrap. But what could he do? He couldn't lift this. He couldn't even call emergency services because the phone box in his sector had been obliterated. All he could do was blare his whistle and hope to God that someone who <em>could </em>help was nearby.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>But as no one came, and the bombs continued to fall, Munkustrap knew he had to make a decision. One that could - at the very least, save Rumpleteazer. He grabbed the young queen by her forearm and began running for the station. She screamed and tried to struggle away from him, but to no avail. Jerrie watched them go with tear-filled eyes, and he reached to Teazer with his hand. A smile inched across his face, as though to tell her,</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>
          <em>Don't worry about it, Squeeze. You'll be okay.</em>
        </p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p> </p>
        <p>Once they'd arrived at the station, Munkustrap released the wailing and screaming Teazer from his hand. She ran into the arms of her mother, Jennyanydots, who had been waiting for the calicos anxiously.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>"He's gone, ma!" She cried. Her voice was utterly broken with sorrow. "We <em>never </em>shoulda been so reckless! He's gone!"</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>"Come on dear..." Jenny soothed. "Quickly now, down to the platform."</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>With that, the two queens disappeared into the station's depths.</p>
        <p> </p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>Munkustrap's gut twisted at the sound of Teazer's distant cries, but he had a job to do. He began dialing on the phone box nearest to the station and made a call.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>"Operator? ARP Rescue Party." He waited as the line was put through. "Civilian casualty on Victoria Grove. Male, trapped under rubble. Severe injuries requiring cauterisation."</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>Once the report was confirmed, he hung up and turned back to the dark street. Above him, the searchlights swayed across the sky. It would have been beautiful if it wasn't so... sinister. Though, as he watched the deep, empty sky - he realised that it was exactly that, empty.</p>
      </div>
      <div class="">
        <p>The siren had begun to wind down, until it rose to it's peak once more and held it's note. He sighed and slumped against the wall of the station.</p>
        <p> </p>
        <p>It was over for tonight.</p>
      </div>
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